


At the Barnyard Nightclub

by Multiple_Universes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cowboys, Drunken Shenanigans, Fluff, M/M, Romantic Comedy, don't take this seriously, other location AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-22 03:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13158168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: While somewhere in the state of Kansas for a skating competition, Victor and Chris decide to visit the Barnyard Nightclub one night (to be fair, Chris decides and Victor is dragged along), but the night ends up being much more interesting than Victor first expected it to be.AU where Yuuri trained with Phichit, not in Detroit, but somewhere in the state of Kansas.





	1. Cultural Experience

**Author's Note:**

> A little explanation for everyone going “huh? That’s random!” After seeing the coffee shop AU with the mostly naked baristas and crappy coffee (and a very thirsty Victor) I remembered how once, on my travels to America, I saw a sign with the words “Barnyard Nightclub”. I have no idea, to this day, what that means, but the words paint a kind of visual in my mind, so… this is the result of a conversation about that.
> 
> Imagine an AU where Yuuri trained with Phichit, not in Detroit, but somewhere in the state of Kansas and, for some reason, they had a skating competition there (even though they probably have somewhere around 2 skating rinks for the whole state haha).

For the cultural experience – that was Chris’s excuse for everything.

“Victor, let’s go to Boot Barn!” Chris exclaimed.

“Why?”

“For the cultural experience!”

Cultural experience came with a big price tag, as Victor found out when he saw how much the boots, belts and hats cost (not to mention everything else they sold at the store). It all mystified him. Surely hats were just hats?

But Chris had talked him into buying _these_ boots and _that_ belt with _this_ hat and, well, now he felt like an idiot.

“Now we’re ready for a night out!” Chris declared.

“I’m not going out dressed like this!” Victor exclaimed.

They were in his hotel room, trying everything on all over again just in case it suddenly stopped fitting and Victor could return all of it.

“No, no, we have to dress like this,” Chris insisted, “because we’re going to the Barnyard Nightclub!”

There was a pause after this somewhat dramatic announcement. Victor couldn’t help feeling like it should’ve been whispered and not shouted at the top of his voice, just in case people actually heard them.

“That’s… er… an actual place?” Victor asked. He’d seen and heard some odd things over the last few days, but there was just no way that a place with a name _like that_ actually existed.

“Yep!” Chris said proudly, as if he was the one responsible for it. (Victor tired not to imagine what a Barnyard Nightclub would look like if he _had_ been the one responsible for it. He’d been to Halloween parties organized by Chris. Some of them were best forgotten.)

As always, Chris knew how to talk Victor into coming along.

Simply put, it was either that or staying alone in his room, since Chris was about to drive off in the car they’d rented together and, just their luck, their hotel was on the other side of a highway from any normal bars.

Victor sighed and resigned himself to spending half the night at a nightclub that tried to be a proper nightclub, but played country music while drunk cowboys and cowgirls danced and sang.

In this prediction Victor was completely correct. The place was jam-packed with people in cowboy hats and boots, dancing (or pretending to) to country music. It was awful.

He hid behind a pillar and watched Chris give up on him and go off to chat up someone in the crowd.

From there it got only worse.

30 minutes of idly staring at the crowd let Victor spot the only attractive person in the room.

He was in the same horrible hat and boots like everyone else, but – and here was what had caught Victor’s eye in the first place – unlike most other people in the room, he’d tied the ends of his shirt up to reveal his midriff and he was in a pair of very short jean shorts.

Before he even realized that he’d done it, Victor slipped over to the bar where the young man was.

He was with another young man and, by the looks of it, smashed out of his mind. He leaned forward against the bar as he talked to his friend and every once in a while his shorts would shift down a few important inches to reveal the top of his underwear and more skin, and every once in a while the young man would pull them back up again. This, without a doubt, was the most fascinating thing in all of human history.

And then he heard a familiar voice cut into the conversation. “I didn’t expect to run into you here!”

Victor took his eyes off of the young man reluctantly and, sure enough, there was Chris, chatting up the only interesting person in the room.

The young man straightened up and laughed. “Nice to see you, too!”

“Would you honour me with a dance?” Chris asked in that tone of his that told the intended target that they could take it however they liked: a silly joke or the invitation from a true gentleman.

Victor had stood there for a good 30 minutes, unable to find the courage to introduce himself and ask the young man his name when Chris strolled in, using the oldest pickup line in the book and just snatched the man away!

Victor could already imagine driving them both back to the hotel, hearing the noises they made next door and then seeing Chris smile smugly about it in the morning.

The young man laughed. “Sure. Why not?”

 _Why_ not _? Because it’s Chris! And not_ me _!_

He held back, unable to interfere. He never interfered in Chris’s dates. He knew the rules. There was no first come, first serve, but if Chris’s attention was returned, it was rude to interfere.

Even smashed out of his mind the young man could dance, which would’ve been impressive without the alcohol, because dancing to country music required skills Victor didn’t have. The man had stamina too: he danced until Chris gave up and left for a breather.

And he didn’t follow Chris anywhere. Not somewhere discreet for making out. Not even back to the bar for another drink.

Victor saw an opening and leapt before it was too late and before his brain could interfere to say it was a bad idea.

“Good evening,” he said, trying to sound as confident and interesting as Chris always did. What would he say in this situation? Oh yes! “I couldn’t help noticing that you were all alone and…”

The young man turned to look at him and Victor, who’d been eyeing his, to put it politely, backside, now had the front side to admire, but he was caught by those eyes and could see nothing more. “I… er…” His brain ground to a halt. “… dance… um…”

He smiled warmly, took Victor’s hands and led.

Victor was prepared to go anywhere and do anything the man wanted. The dancefloor was nothing.

 

They slipped out two hours later and the young man stopped just outside the doors to the wonderful place to catch a kiss from Victor.

“I…I still don’t know your name,” Victor admitted quietly. “Or… anything about you.” _Apart from how good-looking you are and how well you can dance._

The young man giggled. “Yuuri,” he said and passed out.

Victor caught him as the door behind him swung open.

“Ah! There you are. I’m bored. Let’s go home.” Chris put an arm on Victor’s shoulder, noticed Yuuri’s unconscious form and chuckled. “Too much to drink again?”

“I…um…” Victor blushed deeply. “Where is…? What do I do? I don’t even know where…?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chris said. “I know his address.”

“You do?” _Of course you do. I bet you have his number and everything!_

They took Yuuri home and Victor wondered if he would ever see him again.

 

Two days later he walked out onto the skating rink for the morning practice before a competition as Yakov lectured him in that annoying way of his. He nodded and pretended to listen, looking for Chris among the skaters.

“Good morning!” Chris waved, but Victor wasn’t looking at him.

His eye fell on the skater standing next to Chris.

It was Yuuri. It had to be. Unless he had a twin brother, it was the young man from that nightclub.

Forgetting Yakov, Chris and the entire skating world except for Yuuri, Victor strode up to him with a big smile on his face.

“I didn’t know you were a skater too!” he said excitedly.

The skater stared up at him in shock.

“You should’ve told me, Yuuri.”

“V-Victor!” the young man stammered out.

Victor stepped up closer to him. “Oh? Would you like a dance right now?”

“W-what?”

Victor missed this reaction entirely. His eyes were busy making sure that, yes, this was definitely Yuuri from the nightclub and that his skating outfit suited him even better than what he’d worn that night.

There was a small crowd gathering around them now, but he ignored them.

“And I’ll never forget the kiss you gave me,” Victor added, remembering what Chris had said to a date of his on a similar occasion.

“K-kiss? What are you talking about? I never kissed you!”


	2. One Hell of a Ride

Victor watched Yuuri skate and felt like an idiot. Of _course_ he knew who Yuuri Katsuki was! Victor was the living legend, so he made it his business to know about the other skaters, especially when they were among the top ten. It was just that when someone took an image of Yuuri Katsuki as he was out on the ice in that moment and compared him to the Yuuri Katsuki that night in that club they barely matched at all.

Victor felt a light blush on his cheeks. There were _some_ similarities between the two images, certainly.

If Yuuri had found a way to show off his amazing step sequence at the club Victor would’ve recognized him right away.

He sighed.

“I wouldn’t take it too close to heart, if I were you,” Chris said, appearing at his side. “He often does that.”

“What? Sweep people off their feet and treat them like strangers afterwards?”

Chris laughed. “That too, I suppose, but, really, I was referring to the fact that he often forgets what happens the morning after. Usually after a lot of drinking.”

Victor remembered standing in the middle of the hall as Yuuri walked off after his announcement, standing and feeling like a madman.

 

_“K-kiss? What are you talking about? I never kissed you!” Yuuri exclaimed before vanishing down the hallway, not sparing a single look for the man whose heart he’d broken with two sentences._

_Someone behind him sniggered at those words. “The Living Legend given the cold shoulder?” they muttered and he could just hear the capitals when they spoke._

_Victor resisted the urge to snap at the speaker, not because he didn’t want to look bad in front of others, but because he never snapped at anyone._

_Yes, he was the living legend, but that didn’t mean that everyone was eager to go out with him. That didn’t mean that people ran up to him, swooned into his arms and demanded to date him. Well, to be fair, that did happen to him. Four times. And there was also that time when Chris was drunk, but it didn’t really count._

_The point was that he was just as human as everyone else and people could turn him down just like they turned down anyone else and they could break his heart, just like they could break anyone else’s._

 

And now he was watching Yuuri skate his short program and wondering how on earth he would make up for his big blunder.

“Hey, Yuuri, I really like your skating. I was just trying to get your attention with the worst pickup line in the world,” wasn’t an option he was ready to explore.

Yuuri finished beautifully and raised his arms.

The audience cheered and he bowed.

“Yuuri!” he applauded.

Yuuri turned, saw him and blushed.

Victor was next out on the ice. But he barely cared for his program, spending that time instead trying to think of a way to get through to Yuuri.

He wanted another date. _Needed_ another date.

But this time he would have to make sure that Yuuri would remember.

In theory, anyway.

In practice, things turned out to be a little different.

 

He came up to Yuuri at the end of the day, one hand held out in a congratulatory handshake. Yuuri had come out of the short program segment with a higher score than his and was looking faintly embarrassed about it now.

They shook hands as Victor struggled to string together the right words.

“So, um… Chris and I have this tradition that we like to go to interesting bars in the area. Do you have any recommendations?” _Very clever, Victor. Very good,_ he congratulated himself mentally.

“Well there’s this place, but I don’t know if you’ll like it…”

“I trust your judgement completely!” Victor assured him. “Do you think you can take us there?”

“Sure!” another person cut in and Victor recognized another one of the skaters who had competed against him. Phichit Chulanont. “I know the perfect place!” he said.

“Great! I’ll go get Chris and we can all go together!” he told them and cursed himself. What on Earth did he need Chris or Phichit for?

Slowly this trip overseas did its best to turn into the biggest cultural shock of Victor’s life.

There he was – in another club, surrounded by more people in cowboy hats, most (if not all) of them drunk and shouting loudly, and he wondered if he’d gone insane without noticing it. The middle area was fenced off and, well… There _it_ was. Victor stared at it in mute shock.

“What is _that_?” he asked in disbelief.

“What does it look like?” Chris asked in return, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Victor looked at Yuuri. His attention was mostly on Phichit who was ordering drinks, but he kept throwing anxious looks at Victor, which the living legend was struggling to interpret.

“Is that a _bull_?” Victor asked, still unable to believe his eyes.

“A mechanical one,” Yuuri answered. “Phichit really likes this place.”

Was there just a hint in his voice that it was more than that, or was it just Victor’s imagination?

“So do you,” Phichit countered, turning around with two drinks, one of which he handed to Yuuri. “ _I’m_ not the person currently holding the record.”

“Record?” Victor echoed.

“For the longest ride,” Phichit added. “But that’s not the only record Yuuri’s got.”

Victor watched Yuuri lower his eyes.

“You are currently looking at the record holder for the longest ride after the most drink!” Phichit boasted, as if the achievement had somehow been his.

“R-really, it’s nothing,” Yuuri protested. “I’m sure you can beat my record, Victor.” He raised his eyes and Victor couldn’t see anything else for the next minute or so as he held Yuuri’s gaze.

Yuuri downed his drink and then turned around for another one.

“Sounds like a challenge to me,” Chris said, hitting Victor lightly on the back. “Well, Living Legend? What do you say? Will you back down or take him on?”

Victor felt the blood rise to his face, which was stupid. Why was he blushing now?

He saw Yuuri raise his eyes to his face again and accepted. If that’s what it took to impress the boy, he would do it, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

Ten minutes later he regretted his decision. Even stone cold sober it was impossible to stay on the damn thing. It was uncomfortable and the up and down movements were making him nauseous. He was glad he’d gone up without having a drink first.

After some more time he was convinced that his kidneys weren’t going to make it and that his body didn’t care that he didn’t have anything to throw up, it would find something to throw up anyway.

He raised his voice and shouted for them to let him off.

The bull stopped shaking, but still the world went on swinging back and forth. He slipped off the mad contraption and did his best to stay upright.

“How long was that?” he asked, in the full expectation of hearing at least an hour in response.

“Ten minutes,” Chris told him.

Phichit made a dismissive gesture. Both skaters laughed.

“It’s good for a first time,” Yuuri put in.

Victor gave him a grateful smile. “So what’s your record?”

“Forty-five minutes,” Phichit answered for him. “And you forget, Yuuri, that on your first try you stayed on for fifteen!”

Yuuri tried to interject.

“After five glasses of whiskey!” Phichit added. He held a glass out to Victor. “Which reminds me: if you don’t stay on for at least eleven minutes, you have to down a shot!”

Yuuri tried to protest, but Victor took the glass and downed it. “One of you go and then I’ll try again,” he insisted.

“That’s our Living Legend!” Phichit and Chris exclaimed, both clapping him on the back.

Alcohol and mad friends is a deadly combination, but when you add to it a person you want to impress the chances of survival become so small that they’re basically zero.

Victor watched Chris and Phichit both beat his time and look smug about it, as if it was nothing. He had another go, but his time just kept decreasing with each attempt. And, so, the world got hazier and hazier.

And all the while Yuuri watched with that polite smile, like some impartial judge.

 _How do I do this? How do I win you over?_ Victor wondered, feeling weak and powerless.

Yuuri downed a shot for each person getting off the bull, but didn’t go anywhere near the mechanical contraption himself. Somehow with each shot his confidence grew and he leaned against Victor’s shoulder after Victor’s failed fifth attempt with a little knowing smile.

Victor felt Yuuri’s hot breath on his cheek. He could smell the alcohol coming off the boy. It was enough to make his head spin.

“Well, Living Legend,” Yuuri whispered, “will you give me that long ride you promised?”

He probably hadn’t meant it the way it had sounded. He hadn’t, Victor told himself over and over again as all the blood rushed to his face.

And he knew then that if he stepped away from the bar, which was giving him lots of much-needed support, he wouldn’t even make it to that cursed bull.

“I don’t think I can…” he stammered out.

Yuuri smiled. “Then prepare yourself for the longest ride of your life.”

Victor’s jaw dropped.

Yuuri slid one finger under it and closed it with frightening ease. He turned away and smiled at his friends.

“My turn.”

The whole place erupted in screams and shouts as if Victor was suddenly transported to a zoo.

Yuuri pulled his hands through his hair, drawing it back and, oddly enough, it stayed down. He stepped up to the bull with the steady walk of someone who hadn’t just downed a bottle’s worth of whiskey and turned to smile at Victor before climbing on.

The living legend clutched at his heart, convinced it would burst out of his chest as Yuuri got onto the back of the mechanical bull.

“Now we’ll see what riding really means,” Chris muttered, leaning against the bar next to Victor. He looked very drunk himself.

Victor couldn’t explain why the longer Yuuri stayed on top of the bull, the more the blood rushed to his face. It was impressive, surely, that the skater had so much stamina and it wasn’t fair that he could look so cool and so in control after that much alcohol.

 _How do I get you over here?_ Victor wondered.

He watched Yuuri beat his own record. He watched them all celebrate. And he couldn’t help the feeling of detachment, as if he was a mere observer, forever locked out of all the action, unable to participate in any way.

“Well, that about wraps it up,” Chris said. “What are the scores?”

Phichit read out numbers for each of them. Victor had no idea what the scoring system was, but he understood the important thing, which was that he’d lost and Yuuri had won. No surprise there. The boy had won without the damned bull.

“Now what?” he asked.

Chris and Phichit exchanged a look. “We’ll let the victor decide what he wants his prize to be.”

Now everyone was looking at Yuuri, waiting for his answer.

Yuuri smiled, took Victor by the hands and pulled him away from the bar. “Dance with me,” he said.

Victor would’ve loved to give him a dance. He was prepared to give Yuuri anything he wanted for that moment. Unfortunately, his body had other plans. And, surely, no one could blame him for that?

He passed out.

 

Victor woke up and stared up at the ceiling. It took a long time to remember where he was or what was happening and then it all came back to him and he rolled over with a groan.

The hour that followed made him wish he’d spent the previous night in his hotel room and hadn’t gone anywhere, handsome young men or not.

Only the thought of seeing Yuuri soon helped him endure everything. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have the boy’s number or any sure way of meeting up with him. He was determined to find a way.

And two hours later he did.

The skater walked past him in the lobby, stopping briefly to throw a look at him.

Victor remembered the sex god he’d seen the night before and hesitated. Would Yuuri turn him down if he asked him out? But he wanted a date! And he wanted it really badly.

“I… uh… Would you like a commemorative photo?”

Yuuri turned away and walked out and Victor mentally cursed himself. _A commemorative photo? Where had that come from? What on Earth did that even mean?_

He stared down at his feet and suppressed the urge to kick himself.

Someone put something on his head and he raised his eyes to see Yuuri smiling at him. “Phichit tells me that I won last night, but I never got my prize, so I want it now.”

He pulled the object off his head and realized it was a cowboy hat.

“I want a ride,” Yuuri said quietly, “and _a commemorative photo_.”

Victor’s knees trembled under him. His mouth felt dry. “S-sure.”

He was so close now. He could reach out with his hands and snatch the boy. He could press him close and maybe catch another kiss, but Victor did none of those things, content to meekly follow Yuuri wherever he led.

 

That evening a photo appeared in Instagram, accompanied by a new rumour. It was a photo of Victor on top of a mechanical bull, Yuuri sitting in front of him with a smile on his face. Both skaters were in cowboy hats, boots and anything else that a cowboy was sure to wear when he decided to ride a bull.

But there was one thing slightly odd about the picture. When Victor and Yuuri gave Phichit the permission to post it, they were convinced that the picture he’d posted was one of them sitting one in front of the other, both facing the same way, arms outstretched as if ordering the bull to charge forward faster. But the picture they saw when they woke up the next morning was entirely different: Yuuri sat with his back to the bull, his lips pressed against Victor’s as his hat slid off his head, while Victor’s arms circled around him.

Yuuri turned over sleepily and looked at the photo. “I don’t even remember this,” he mumbled to himself. “Phichit is going to insist this really happened, but this picture is obviously photoshopped. If we’d done that at least one of us would’ve fallen off.”

“We did,” a voice next to him whispered.

Yuuri shot up in the bed and stared at Victor lying very obviously there in – Yuuri took in the room he was in – _his own_ bed.

“Oh _God_!” he exclaimed. “Did we – Did I – _Oh my God_!”

Victor sat up and the blanket slid off his _very bare_ shoulders. “Now, if I remember correctly, you promised that you’d show me something very interesting if I took you to my room for the night.” He rested his chin in his hand. “And then you passed out, so I thought I’d let you sleep it off and maybe you could show me what it was in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit that I have no idea how accurate I am with the place I described here, but I heard stories that a place like this actually exists, so…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, commenting and leaving kudos!


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